


i blame your brother

by catgoaty



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, and actual spin-off of a story i still haven't written out, and kagami insists on having their friends over every christmas, in which everyone went to mahoutokoro together, mostly fluff and dumbassery, sort of HP!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catgoaty/pseuds/catgoaty
Summary: A glimpse of Aomine's Christmas, the people he shares it with, and the thing he comes to realize over the span of a single day - or a single minute, as it happens.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first draft of this two years ago and just never finished. I have so many ideas for this AU, but for now I'll settle with scribbling hints into a cheesy Christmas fic. The joys of life, eh?

Daiki wakes to heat, and the very pleasant feeling of fingers combing through his hair. He presses closer to the warm body enveloping him, taking a deep whiff of cinnamon, clove and rich red wine, and then blinks his eyes open with a groan. Pale sunlight glints off flaming red tresses, a few strands of hair tickling his face as he nuzzles the curve of his partner’s neck, lips brushing throat and collarbone before settling at the corner of a sharp jaw.

“…-mhrgmhrmn…” Daiki mumbles into the warm skin, the hand in his hair scratching much too comfortably at his scalp for words to form properly, and he struggles to keep his eyes open. The fragrant blend of spices that lingers on the man’s skin like a perfume just helps make it worse, like an intoxicating little piece of home and holiday with every inhale.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me.” The hand in his hair stills, the other slipping from his waist, and Daiki whines like a spoilt child as the heat retreats ever so slightly, locking his own limbs around his husband’s body to keep him there.

“ _Taiga_ ,” he moans, throat protesting at the tone with a weird gargle, “it’s fucking _cold_.”

“Like hell it is, you’re sweating all over the futon,” Taiga grunts. But he still falls back on the thin mattress with a huff, red eyes narrowed as Daiki props himself on his elbows to grin down at him drowsily, leaning in for a brief press of lips.

“You wouldn’t know cold if you were buried in an avalanche,” he snickers, and then he kisses Taiga for real to stop the protest before it happens, licking into his mouth with little finesse but all the more sleep-drunken enthusiasm. “And technically,” he adds in between smooches, “I’m sweating all over _you_ … heh… not the futon.”

Taiga does poke him in the ribs for that, but seeing how he proceeds to nip at his lips and drag him down until every part of their bodies are touching, Daiki doesn’t think he minds all that much.

“Happy holidays, by the way,” he rasps out, letting his limbs go limp again and promptly ignoring the half-hearted protest it brings to bury his face in the crook of Taiga’s neck with a snort, closing his eyes again as deep red fills his vision. Taiga’s fingers trace unchanging patterns on his shoulder – following the scarring most likely – moving in light caresses, and chuckles quietly even as Daiki feels him shake his head. His chest trembles with the sound.

“Yeah, merry Christmas.”

Daiki yawns. “Still going with that muggle bull?”

“Calling it holidays makes it too general.”

He can’t really argue with that, Daiki finds. And he doesn’t very much want to. Draped over Taiga as he is, warm and comfortable and wavering between sleep and awareness, the last thing he wants is for the moment to pass.

But then his husband just has to start moving, shifting underneath him and jostling him aside. Daiki cracks his eyes open sourly to see Taiga reaching back under the pillow, hand and wand both catching in his hair as he finally pulls it out with a triumphant “ah”, before moving on to the struggle of untangling himself.

“What now?” Daiki drawls, very much refusing to move. Taiga is like a personified heater, and in the chilly winter mornings Daiki can fully appreciate it, snuggle in close and escape the cold air that always creeps inside somehow.

“Did you remember to take home a tree last night? Tetsu’s bringing the kids over to decorate it sometime around lunch.” Taiga’s smiling as he flicks his wand, and Daiki groans exaggeratedly as the screen doors of their bedroom slide open fully, a cascade of pale light washing over them. “What’s up with that face?” Taiga laughs, bright and cheerful.

Daiki feels his own lips twitch, and quickly smothers his husband with the nearest pillow to hide the silly grin. “Shut up.”

Taiga flails for all of five seconds before rolling away and pushing himself up with a scoff. “Dumbass, like I haven’t seen your dorky smile before,” he puffs, cheeks flushed as he shoots him a dirty look. Daiki shrugs, throwing the pillow at him only to watch it combust in mid-air.

“You know, we’re gonna run out if you keep doing that.”

“Then stop throwing them around, moron,” Taiga says with a roll of his eyes, stretching and up on his feet before the last sparks die out. He murmurs a short “ _jikan yo_ ”, and Daiki groans loudly again as he squints at the mist-like digits that appear.

“When is lunch, exactly?” he asks, well aware that he’s sulking as Taiga steps into the hallway with a snicker, the vast majority of the heat going with him and leaving Daiki to shiver on the rumpled futon.

“Soon.”

“You better tell those devils to leave me alone for once! Christmas and all!”

Taiga just laughs as he disappears behind the corner.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When the time came, his husband did in fact do nothing at all to prevent the little poltergeists from assaulting him, and Daiki doesn’t miss a single opportunity to pout about it.

“It sort of suits you, you know?” Is all Taiga says when Daiki walks into the kitchen, a child hanging off each arm like a pair of monkeys, their big blue eyes instantly locking onto the steaming jug on the countertop. Daiki purposely uses a bit more force to shake his arms, but all it does is make the twins squeal excitably as they’re tossed about.

“ _My hair is_ _orange_ ,” he bites out, inciting another round of giggles from the girls.

“I am sorry about that, Daiki.” His scalp tingles for a moment, Taiga clicking his tongue at what is hopefully his hair returning to normal, and he sighs as Tetsuya pockets his wand again and finally starts prying one of the she-devils from his arm. “They do love using their magic like that. I’ve already experienced every colour of the rainbow twice myself,” Tetsuya tells them with a faint smile, as though there’s nothing wrong with his kids going around and using their unstable magic on people.

“Mommy has green hair today,” the one still clinging to his arm giggles, and Daiki freezes for just a second at the sheer delight of her expression. He then proceeds to grab the back of her little coat and pull until she lets go with a squeak and fiercely adorable pout.

“Oi, Taiga.” He puts the girl down on the barstool next to her twin, meeting his husband’s eyes for a moment as Taiga pauses in his work, brow raised in question. “Let’s never have kids.”

Taiga frowns, gaze flicking to Tetsuya and the girls, the pair getting worked up about the decorating left to do as Tetsuya flicks his calculating gaze between all four of them. “Why not?” he asks finally.

As if on cue there’s a dull clunk, and Daiki holds back a laugh as hot chocolate spreads all across the counter, shooting Taiga a pointed look that goes largely ignored as his husband whips out his wand with a flourish he only ever seems to have in the kitchen or on the battlefield.

“ _Kiyome yo_!” “- _yo_!”

Taiga and Tetsuya’s spells collide on site, and while the chocolate does disappear without a trace, the vegetables waiting to be diced seem to acquire an unnatural waxy shine, the letters of the open cookbook fade considerably – along with every side note Taiga has added over the years getting wiped off completely – and the fallen mug loses all of its colour. The gleam of the now transparent glass comes off as oddly provocative even to Daiki’s eyes.

He glances up at his husband as a wave of heat hits him, then promptly grabs the girls by their coats again and lifts them out of the room without a word. He can hear Tetsuya’s chuckle over Taiga’s silent curses even as the girls whine about the snack they didn’t get, and grieves the loss of a chance to see his husband’s furious expression. Though admittedly it does things to him that he probably shouldn’t be expressing in the presence of minors.

“You’re smiling weird, uncle Dai,” the brat on his right points out, a near direct replica of Tetsuya’s scrutinizing gaze settled on him, and Daiki puts both girls down with a snort to ruffle her inky hair.

“Am not.”

“Yes you were, uncle Dai.” Devil number two smiles up at him, bright and easy. Daiki pinches her cheek, scoffing at her whine of “leggo, iddurts”.

“Are you still in denial, Daiki?” Tetsuya asks, popping out of nowhere like usual, and if they hadn’t known each other well enough for years already, Daiki would have jinxed him in half a second flat. As it is, he just shoots him a grouchy look, leaving the girls alone to carry the plate of cookies Tetsuya floats over. “You’ve been together for fifteen years – we already know you smile when you think about him, no matter how many times you say you don’t.”

Daiki huffs, passes the plate on to the snickering she-devil, and stalks ahead out to the yard so he can at least pretend he’s only red from the cold.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took them most of the afternoon to decorate the big fir in the front yard, but at least it looks pretty in the dark. Daiki sighs as he starts muttering spells under his breath, casting the usual charms and wards to fireproof the tree. Tetsuya is looking on curiously.

“You seem to have added a few safety spells…” he murmurs, chuckling as the girls continue lighting the candles as best they can, practice wands in hand as they circle the fir excitably. Daiki shrugs and gives his own wand a final flick, a last glimmering cover falling over the top of the tree before disappearing.

“Taiga likes being on the safe side,” he sighs, “so he keeps finding all these old charms and altering them as he likes. Says it’s to make sure the house doesn’t burn down if I piss him off too badly.”

“That does sound like him… I’d have thought you got along better by now though. Are you still being an insufferable brat when you don’t get your way?”

“You sound like you’ve been talking to Satsuki again.”

“We have tea sometimes.”

Daiki is about to comment when a sharp crack rings from the edge of the woods, and instead flashes a smug grin at the pair that stumbles through the house wards. “Speak of the devil and she turns up with presents.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lunch is as messy an affair as it gets with three dozen people gathered under one roof. Why Taiga insists to have such a big celebration is beyond him, and Daiki has already resigned to doing his best to make sure everything doesn’t get out of hand.

It helps, he supposes, that there are an increasing amount of brats tagging along every year. The first holiday they’d spent with their friends had ended with a dozen empty bottles of firewhiskey and shisozake, two missing wands and the sudden invasion of a group of _hiden_ , the tiny, russet martens very nearly setting the whole area aflame. Since the first kids made their appearance at the Christmas table a few years ago though, their stock of hard liquor seems almost excessive.

That’s not to say, of course, that none of them drink. Wakamatsu is the one to stop first, closely followed by Hayama, and they’ve long since banned Ryou from any and all consumption of alcohol. Then there are those on the opposite end of the spectrum…

“Spacing out again?” Taiga asks through the chatter, finally slipping into the seat next to him at a corner of the massive table, and Daiki gives him a petulant look. The small glass he’d been nursing is slipped from his quickly numbing fingers and swallowed down by his husband before he can react. “I think you’ve had enough of that, sanshouzake does nothing for the appetite.”

“Hah?” Daiki hears himself he’s a bit louder than he should be, and if that doesn’t embarrass him enough, Taiga’s ridiculous eyebrow wiggle clues him in on just what sort of appetite he meant.

Kiyoshi snorts into his seventh butterbeer at the opposite end of the table, looking aggravatingly amused even as Aida pokes her bony elbow into his ribs with a long-suffering sigh. Daiki wonders again why he chose the guy he did, but is quickly reminded by a piece of herb-crusted chicken held out for him, the dumb grin as he chews on it with a begrudged hum of approval, and the heat of a strong thigh pressed against his own under the table. That Satsuki and Takao seem to be reading his thoughts from across the feast with unconcealed delight barely even takes away from it.

So when something tugs at his sleeve, Daiki is still in a pretty good mood, and manages a smirk that is hopefully not intimidating to the puppy-eyed grade schooler his gaze lands on when he turns in his seat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry about this, Aomine.”

Daiki shivers in the cold air, the sun already gone behind the wall of mountains, night sky darkening overhead. There’s just about enough light coming from the windows at their back to light up the steep slope of their backyard, and to make out the half dozen small figures zipping and swishing across the sky, small lines of light following in the wake of their broomsticks.

“Youhei’s a good flyer,” he says finally, and Kasamatsu snorts, head tilted back to follow his son’s track as best he can.

“He’s alright, not interested in the sport though. Don’t know who to thank for that.”

“The little one, uh…”

“Asami.”

“Right, Asami… she old enough for this yet?”

“She’s two.”

“Ah… right. And your third…?”

“Due in March, Aomine.”

“…alright then.”

Silence falls around them again, Daiki twirling his wand languidly and suffering under the oppression of awkwardness and questions waiting to be asked. Taiga would be straightforward here, he knows. But Daiki isn’t anywhere near as familiar with Kasamatsu as his husband, and nowhere near as capable of civilized conversation.

He distracts himself by watching the kids for a little while longer; the older ones’ attempted tricks and feints, the runt’s use of his size to speed through gaps in the naked tree-crowns the rest don’t bother with, and the way the new flyers hover closer to the snow-cushioned ground, occasionally grasping at each other from a strong wind.

“So…” he starts at last, makes a small pause, slightly hesitant, “still no word from Kise?”

He inhales, and swears the air is suddenly twenty degrees colder. Wrong moment, he chastises himself, and wonders if none of the half-drunk idiots they call friends will stumble out and save him. It’s a time of joy and wonder after all – if there’s any day for a stroke of luck it has to be Christmas Eve.

“Still no word,” Kasamatsu says curtly, with the sharp tone of finality, and Daiki holds back any further questions.

“That so...”

They stand in tense silence for another minute, until Mibuchi’s kid has the grace to loose grip of her broom and give them something more urgent to worry about.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Daiki hisses, quiet enough that only Taiga – and from the amused look the guy is giving him, Kiyoshi – are able to hear. His husband shoots him a squinty glance, then lets out a disdainful sigh himself.

“They’re kids, what were you expecting?”

“Something less sparkly for one.”

They look on in silence, wincing, as Tetsuya and Ritsuko are wrapped in layer after layer of silver and gold tinsel, half a dozen children, including their own, circling them with their practice wands out, raising their voices in a suspicious-sounding chant to make the tinsel braid itself tightly and pull the spouses together. Singing, red paper hearts pop up here and there as they go along, their annoyingly squeaky voices filling the room.

“You know what?” Taiga says suddenly, loud enough for at least the closest guests to hear, and gets to his feet with a grunt. “I’ve actually got stuff in the ovens to check, so I’ll be off for a bit. Atsushi, would you mind helping me with the decorations?”

“Hey.” Daiki scowls at his husband, who rolls his eyes before raising a brow. “Fine, whatever, never mind,” he sighs when he gets it, waving a smirking Taiga off as he and Atsushi disappear down the hallway outside. Hopefully not having his significant other there will let him get away from the little couples’ ceremony the brats are forcing on them all. If not, he’ll just demand Taiga recompense him somehow.

For a few minutes, Daiki actually does believe he’s safe. The kids’ gazes pass over him now that he’s alone, and they go on to bother Satsuki and Wakamatsu instead, giving everyone the enjoyment of watching the on-off couple struggle to explain to the children why they’d rather not take part, and subsequently being roped into doing it anyway to prevent a torrent of tears.

“Uncle? Are you alone?”

Daiki knows this is where his luck runs out again. He peers over at the little girl standing to his side, can’t be more than five. Big, gentle eyes are looking at him inquisitively from under a straight black fringe, hands stubbornly holding onto one of his favourite fuzzy blankets where it’s been draped over her shoulders with her long hair tucked inside, probably to keep it from going all over the place. She smiles shyly, and he feels his fucking heart clench.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says finally, without really thinking. “Uncle Taiga’s busy baking.”

The girl nods, perking up and flashing her teeth quickly before clambering onto his lap, and he just lets her, shell-shocked and oddly flattered.

“I can sit with you until he comes back, uncle Aomine. Okay?”

Daiki nods dumbly, fixing the blanket around her on something akin to autopilot, and looks around him helplessly. There isn’t a bastard in the general vicinity who isn’t holding back laughter though, so he grits his teeth minutely before jutting his bottom lip out instead, flushing horribly when the angel reaches for his arms to put them around herself, settling back against him with the most satisfied giggle he’s damn well ever heard.

So when Taiga comes back, it’s of course to the sight of him wrapped in tinsel and paper hearts, using basic wandless magic to make brightly coloured fireworks appear in flowery shapes over his palms, the kid on his lap making delighted sounds with each new mini-explosion. And while Daiki can feel his own cheeks heat up, seeing Taiga’s fond smile as he floats the overflowing trays off to god knows where to reclaim the spot next to him definitely makes up for it.

“I was gone for twenty minutes, how did you find a replacement so quickly?”

“She found me, actually.”

Taiga chuckles, leans over to press the sort of domestic kiss to his cheek that Daiki really doesn’t want all of their close friends to witness, and then puts his own spin on the fireworks, adding actual living fire to the mix, a bright orange fox leaping playfully from one flower to the next and swiping at the fading lights with tiny paws. Only then does the girl look over at his husband, and Daiki is surprised again to see her light up, this time with a squeal of “uncle Taiga”.

“You don’t even know whose kid she is, do you?” Taiga asks as she goes to cling onto him instead, blushing and smiling sweetly. Daiki just shakes his head, because he honestly still struggles with remembering the names of their friends’ unfamiliar spouses – the kids are a challenge all by themselves that he hasn’t made a serious effort to tackle. “Her name’s Himuro Utatsu. Ring a bell?”

Daiki figures he deserves the laughter that bursts forth at the grimace he makes. Taiga lacing their fingers together with the brightest fucking grin helps.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Seeing their guests out has to be Daiki’s third favourite part of the evening; just under stuffing his face with his husband’s home-cooked food and sweets, and having mind-numbingly good sex with said husband. At the moment however, the latter two are far from the forefront of his mind.

“We’re gonna have to get us one of those.” He waves one final time to the last group of people heading home, then turns his head to find Taiga giving him the weirdest look.

“One of what?”

“Kids. A kid.” Daiki nods to himself, surprisingly determined despite the increasingly confused look on Taiga’s face. He tries again, smile twitching onto his lips. “Let’s have a kid.”

“…you really fell for her, didn’t you?”

“She’s the most fucking adorable little person I’ve ever seen. Even if she is your brother’s.” Daiki can see the restraint Taiga is exercising to keep from snapping at him, and wonders if maybe the turnaround was a little quick after all. Considering he said just earlier that day he never wanted kids, he can actually understand why Taiga is narrowing those red eyes at him as the temperature rises, all suspicious.

“You do realize we can’t actually have a kid that way?” he remarks, flopping onto one of the little stone benches in their front yard. Taiga isn’t actually looking at him now, rather staring at some point past the top of the glittering Christmas tree. Daiki joins him on the bench, curling around him out of habit and letting out a pleased sigh at the warmth that spirals through him as he does so. Taiga’s hair is still tied up in a loose ponytail from his time cooking, and he runs his fingers through it, working out the tangles as he ponders the problem. It seems pretty obvious.

“We’re wizards. We’ll figure something out.”

“You’re an idiot,” Taiga scoffs. But he doesn’t argue, just snorts when Daiki buries his face in the crook of his shoulder. “What if we do have a kid and they turn out like Senma and Yuuma?”

Daiki stiffens, the sheer thought of it adding a whole new angle to the idea. But…

“It’d still be _our_ kid, right? Then it’s fine. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if we ended up raising a dark lord or something, considering.”

“I am _not_ a dark lord, Daiki.”

“Close enough.”

“You’re starting to sound like the tabloids…”

“And you’re redirecting the conversation.”

Taiga’s shoulders stiffen for all of a second, and then he’s shrugging, humming lowly in the back of his throat as he gives them one, two slow rolls.

“I just don’t think we should have this discussion now,” he says, careful as though treading on especially thin ice. Daiki doesn’t speak, just waits for him to say his piece. “It’s been a long day, and you’ve just done a complete one-eighty, and I’m not sure we’re even actually ready for a kid. So we should talk about it another time. Not tonight. Not yet for a while. Just to be sure we know what we want.”

There’s a slight tension in the air when Taiga finishes, brows pinched and breath billowing into the night. So for another while Daiki doesn’t answer, he just inhales wine and Christmas spices, and thinks.

“You’re both idiots.” The drawl makes him jump, and he looks up with a surprised expression matching Taiga’s to find Midorima, the bastard, looking down his nose at them. “You’ve overcome the fact that the universe deems you one of the most logically absurd matches imaginable – having a child somehow should be a far lesser concern. Besides, I’ll be there when you need the help of a professional.”

Daiki stills completely for a moment, and then his eyes drift down to the teddy clamped under one of the healer’s arms. Midorima flushes, snarls out an “it’s Eri’s”, and steps through the wards with a resounding crack.

They stay silent for exactly two seconds before bursting into violent laughter.

And for the sake of his husband who wants more of the time he can so easily give, encouraged by the blossoming warmth that spreads through him as Taiga laces their fingers and finally drags him back inside with a lingering kiss and eyes ablaze, Daiki sets aside his sudden desire for more than he’s already blessed with.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Daiki, it’s been forty minutes. Not what I meant by ‘not for a while’.”

“Midorima said we should go for it.”

“We just did.”

“Naughty.”

“…they’re gonna call you old man and doodoo-head and you’re gonna hate it.”

“They’re also likely to spit fire and raise a family of tsuchigumo in our backyard—“

“If you let them I will throw your ass out.”

“—but I’m still gonna love them.”

“…this is the weirdest thing to end the day with.”

“But the best way to start another. Right?”

“Go to sleep, Daiki.”

“Bu—“

“We’ve got research to do in the morning.”

“…have I told you how much I love you?”

“Repeatedly.”

“I love you.”

“Mmh.”

“I love you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I love y—“

“For crying out loud, I know! Now go to sleep!”

“…just gonna, uh, get a new pillow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taiga smiles to himself as Daiki’s soft snores finally rise from the sulking cocoon of blankets, prying them open as carefully as he can possibly manage and holding his ridiculous idiot of a husband close, nose and lips brushing softly over the pale webbed scar of his shoulder before he settles into the crook of his neck with a comfortable sigh.

“Merry Christmas, Aho. I love you.”


End file.
